


A Sky Like Home

by QueenSweep



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Firefly AU, Hurt/Comfort, Indentured Servitude, Like super slow burn guys, Link is Gay, M/M, Non-Graphic Torture, Rating May Change, Rhett is Bi, Rhett mostly just wants to not die, Slow Burn, this is going to take a while
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-09-23 20:36:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17087309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenSweep/pseuds/QueenSweep
Summary: Captain Link Neal thought it would be easy.  Land the ship, sign the contract, load the goods, and keep flying. But when he meets a tall, handsome stranger in a world of trouble, well... as another well-known captain might say, things just don't go smooth.





	1. Link

**Author's Note:**

> Hi y'all! It's the Firefly AU/Rhink series no one asked for! Updates will be posted approximately weekly, and chapter POV will switch back and forth between Link and Rhett--I'll put the character in the chapter title for reference. Mind the tags, and keep in mind that the rating will probably go up, though not for a while yet. 
> 
> Oh, and if anyone came over here hoping to see Mal and crew... sorry to disappoint. I'm just borrowing the universe for my own purposes. They might show up in passing at some point, but that's it.

_All this dust can't be good for the engine._

 

That was Link's first thought as his ship, _Belvedere_ , juddered to a halt on the surface of Athens. From the co-pilot's seat he gazed out across the gigantic pit just beyond the nose of the ship--the largest marble quarry on the planet.

 

“It’s not much to look at, is it?” the voice next to him muttered.

 

“Doesn't matter how pretty it is, if the money's good. We clear to disembark, Stevie?”

 

Stevie, _Belvedere_ 's pilot and first mate, nodded as she fiddled with the controls to power down the ship. “Ready when you are, Cap. How long are we expecting to stay grounded?”

 

“Just long enough to butter up the baron, load the goods, and get back in the air.”

 

“I'll keep her on standby.”

 

Captain Link Neal nodded and rose from his seat. “Sounds good. Shouldn't be more'n a couple hours.”

 

Stevie nodded, pushing away from the control panel to prop her knee-high boots up on the edge, and pulled out her Cortex tablet from where she had stashed it beneath the steering array. “Radio when you're ready. I'll be here.”

 

“Reading something good?” he asked, peering over her shoulder at the handheld screen.

 

“Cheesy romance. Lots of girls kissing. Nothing you'd be interested in.” Stevie gave him grin and a wink as she pulled her long blonde hair back from her face with one hand.

 

“Girls kissing? Ewww!” Link teased, his disgusted expression dissolving into a laugh when Stevie rolled her eyes at him. “Okay, girl, you're in charge 'til I get back. Maybe you can find a cheesy romance novel with _boys_ kissing for me while I’m gone.” His first mate tossed him a lazy wave over her shoulder as he turned to go.

 

* * *

 

 

Wind and coarse sand bit into Link's exposed skin as he, Chase, and Jen descended from the slight rise where they had landed to the pathway running between the shacks and shanties that housed the quarry operation, as well as many of the workers. Jen pulled a blue bandanna up over her face to keep from breathing in the dust and debris, while Link and Chase hid their faces in their jackets. Baron Standish was standing in the doorway of the largest shack, shielding his eyes with one hand and waving Link and his crew over with the other.

 

“Captain Neal! You're a sight for sore eyes, my boy!” the man called. His voice was friendly, though rough from the cigars he frequently indulged in. He was dressed in the sort of finery that made him seem out of place in the ramshackle quarry: a burgundy velveteen jacket, black trousers with a matching burgundy satin stripe down the outside of the leg, and mirror-polished black boots that looked more appropriate for ballrooms and banquets than kicking around in the dust. Across his chest was a gold and red sash denoting his rank.

 

“Good to see you, Baron,” Link said as he approached, with a nod that turned into a half-bow in reference to the man's rank. “I don’t believe you've met Jen and Chase?” At the mention of their names, Link's companions mimicked his bow, Jen gracefully, Chase somewhat less so. “I wanted them to come along and make sure everything goes smooth loading the cargo.”

 

“A pleasure, yes,” the Baron responded with a nod in their direction. He opened the door behind him to reveal the shadowy bowels of the quarry manager's office. “Come in, my friends. We have some business to take care of, I believe.”

 

The baron led the way inside, followed by Link and his crew. Inside, the shack was poorly lit, smoky from the baron's cigar smoldering in an ashtray on the battered desk, and unpleasantly hot even with an electric fan in the corner running full-blast. Wind pelted the metal walls with grit from the quarry below, making it sound like the entire structure was being ravaged by a cheese grater. Still, Baron Standish never lost his smile as he approached the desk, motioning the manager out of his customary spot behind it. The manager, a rough-looking man with dark hair and a five o'clock shadow, muttered something unintelligible as he rose from his chair, but if the baron noticed he made no comment.

 

“Were we back in my study, I'd offer you a scotch,” Standish said as he settled his portly frame into the manager’s recently vacated chair.

 

“I appreciate the thought, sir,” Link responded as he settled into the visitor's chair on the opposite side.

 

“How’s your father been getting along?” the baron asked.

 

“He’s doing well in his retirement,” Link said. “Bored, like any man without work or a hobby. Driving my mother batty, of course.”

 

Standish laughed heartily. “That’s always the way. When I finally come to that, I pity my poor wife!”

 

Link gave him a practiced smile and chuckle. He’d always been good at acting the society part, though after nearly a decade as a cargo ship captain he sometimes wondered if he was losing his touch. The nature of the job meant he kept rougher company most of the time. But the baron was a long-time family friend, and if he noticed anything off about Link’s schmoozing skills, he saw fit to keep quiet.

 

Link’s crew was another story. Most of them were from the border planets or even farther out on the Rim, and it showed in their manners. Noticing Jen and Chase standing uncomfortably behind their fearless leader, the baron smiled up at them as if they were especially precocious children.

 

“Perhaps you two could follow my man Farris here,” he nodded at the gruff manager, “down to the warehouse so he can help you set up the skids. We'll only be a few moments here.”

 

“Captain--” Jen started, but Link raised a hand, cutting her off.

 

“It’s fine Jen, go on. We'll finish up here and be down in a few minutes.” He didn’t need her protection here, he was sure. Baron Standish was no danger to him. Unlike some of his negotiation sessions in the past, this one would be a piece of cake.

 

Farris pushed away from the wall he had been leaning against and silently crossed the room to the door. He held it open and made a sort of ushering gesture, all but insisting that Jen and Chase exit ahead of him. Glancing at one another, they slipped out of the building into the wind and sun with Farris at their heels, leaving Link and Standish to themselves.

 

“Good crew you've got there.”

 

“Thank you, sir.”

 

“I'd wager that young lady could move one of those marble blocks herself, without the skid.” Standish chuckled at his own comment, and Link joined him as politely as he could manage.

 

“She's a tough one, that's for sure,” Link responded. “Good to have at your back.”

 

While the baron gathered the contract materials, Link gazed out the single window in the shack, which looked down into the center of the quarry pit. Workers scurried around down below, dodging excavating machinery as they moved from worksite to worksite. Most were either running the machines or directing from the ground, but in among them were a few with sledgehammers and massive hand drills. Link noticed them particularly because, while the workers with the machinery wore safety helmets, respirators, and heavy coveralls, those with the hand tools seemed to lack any sort of protection. One particularly caught Link’s eye, a sandy-haired, bearded man who stood at least a head higher than any other man in the quarry and swung the sledge he carried like it was made of paper. He was bare-chested and sweating in the summer sun, but even from a distance Link could see the glint of a thick metal collar around the man’s neck. Looking closer, Link noticed that many of the workers who weren’t running the machinery were equipped with similar collars.

 

“Like a well-oiled machine, isn’t it?” Standish said with pride, jolting Link from his thoughts.

 

“It’s a fine operation,” he said. “But what’s with the men in collars? I thought slavery was illegal on Athens.”

 

“They’re not slaves, m’boy!” the baron gasped as if mildly offended. “Indentured laborers. A solution to the overcrowded prisons. I only take the non-violent ones, of course, thieves and drunks and the like. I paid off their debts, and they pay me with their labor.”

 

“But why the collars?” Link asked. The words were barely out of his mouth when he saw the tall man stop swinging his sledge, resting it head-down on the ground and leaning on the haft while he breathed hard and reached one hand behind himself to massage his lower back. From seemingly nowhere, a shorter but heavier-set man in a white helmet and crisp coveralls marched up to him.

 

“Sometimes, they need a reminder of why they’re here,” the baron responded, and gestured to the scene playing out below the window. Link watched the shorter man shout something at the taller one. The tall, bearded man shook his head, gesturing at his back as if in pain. The shorter man shouted something again, and Link could see the taller man’s fists clench and watched his shoulders rise and fall with a deep breath. The shorter man took a step back, grabbed a small metal device hanging from a lanyard around his neck, and pointed it at the other man. To Link’s surprise and horror, the taller man immediately fell to one knee, clawing at the collar for several long seconds, his mouth open in what looked like a cry of agony. Then all at once, he seemed to go limp, sagging against the haft of his hammer and only just managing to keep himself from sprawling flat on the ground. The shorter man took two steps forward, gave the fallen man a swift kick to the leg, and then walked off.

 

“I realize it looks cruel,” Standish murmured, “but it’s the only language brutes like that understand.”

 

Link watched the bearded man rise slowly from the ground before he finally managed to pull his eyes away from the scene. He realized that his unease must be showing on his face, and quickly schooled his expression to pleasant neutrality.

 

“I understand, of course,” he said, turning back to the desk where he saw that the baron had laid out the contract paperwork. “Now, shall we discuss terms?”

 

* * *

 

Half an hour later, the captain and the baron had reached an agreement and walked together from the manager’s office down the slope to the warehouses. Jen and Chase were there with Farris, setting up the last of the antigrav skids to transport the giant blocks of marble from the warehouse to the cargo bay. Baron Standish pulled Farris aside to hand him the order while Link walked towards his crew. Chase waved him over.

 

“Nearly ready, sir,” he said, grinning. “Big shipment this time?”

 

“Pretty big. We’ll be taking 400 tons of this here rock all the way to Sihnon.”

 

Chase’s whole face lit up. “We’re going to Sihnon?”

 

“Have you ever been there?”

 

“No sir. Just read about it. I’ve always wanted to go, though. It’s supposed to be beautiful.”

 

Link grinned. “It is. We’ll be planetside for a few days, maybe go to Lu’Weng, see the sights.” He clapped Chase on the shoulder briefly. He was a good kid, Chase. Maybe a little too eager sometimes, but a clever mechanic and a bright spot on the crew. How a kid who grew up in a home for war orphans on Hera could be so damn cheerful all the time, Link would never understand.

 

As Link was inspecting the skids, the baron approached him again, saying, “I’ve called up a few men to get everything loaded. They should be here shortly.”

 

Within minutes, a crew of six men and an overseer arrived in the warehouse. There were two machine operators, two guides, and two laborers. Link was surprised to see that the tall, bearded man from earlier was among them, moving stiffly and without his hammer. He couldn’t help but stare at how huge the man seemed up close; he was slimmer than Link first thought, but had a broad chest and muscular arms that were obviously the result of his labor, and in combination with his height it made him downright intimidating. _And more than a little handsome_ , Link mused before quickly clamping down on that thought. The man was an indentured worker, he reminded himself, a criminal, and regardless of how Link felt about it, barely more than the baron’s property. The tall man flicked his eyes towards Link’s just then   with a look of curiosity on his face. Link couldn’t help but take in their color, a grey-green like storm clouds over water. But in contrast to his intimidating appearance, the man’s eyes seemed gentle and intelligent. Link was almost disappointed when, a moment later, the tall man dropped his gaze back to the ground.

 

Farris shouted out orders and the loading team began their work. The machine operators and their guides moved ten foot tall chunks of marble to the antigrav skids with surprising delicacy, while the laborers hooked and unhooked the chains and slings used to lift the massive blocks, and covered and padded between them to ensure that they did not crack or break apart. Link and his crew didn’t have to lift a finger, and just stood back and watched as the men worked.

 

Link took the opportunity to walk around the periphery to get a better look at the operation and his cargo. The blocks of marble were remarkably beautiful to look at up close, even rough and unfinished as they were. The stone itself was a bright, pure white with swaths of coral pink, and in the sunlight streaming in through the open ventilation hatches of the warehouse, it seemed to almost glow against the dark grey veins running through it. The surface looked surprisingly smooth for having been simply cut out of a rock face. He approached one of the blocks, already on it’s skid, and had reached out to run his fingers over it when he was pulled away, hard and sudden, by a hand on his shoulder. He stumbled backwards, nearly falling before he was caught against a warm body. Less than a second later, before he could even contemplate what was happening, another ten-ton block of marble dropped down just where his hand had been.

 

He swallowed hard and looked up and back at his savior, who was still pressing him to his chest with a tight grip on his shoulder. It was the tall man again, staring hard at him with an expression somewhere between concern and barely disguised laughter.

 

“Careful,” the man said. “I think you want to keep that hand.” Link felt the low, smooth voice rumble against his shoulder blades. The tingle it sent down his spine was not entirely related to having nearly gotten his hand crushed. A moment later, the giant released him with a friendly pat to the arm.

 

“Uh, thanks,” Link said. The tall man nodded and turned to continue working. Link stood nearby for a moment, trying to get his heart to stop racing. He watched the man bend to pick up a piece of the thick cloth used for padding between the blocks, and heard him groan softly as he straightened up.

 

“Are you alright?” Link asked. “I saw you in the quarry earlier. It looked like you hurt your back.”

 

The man chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “It always hurts. I’ll be fine.”

 

“A bad back’s no good in this line of work,” Link said.

 

The man straightened to his full height and turned to face Link again. “It’s this, or likely getting killed in a prison cell.”

 

“Why would you be killed? It’s an Alliance prison, right? They have guards, protection.”

 

“And I have enemies. They’d find a way. Trust me.”

 

“There’s got to be another option.”

 

When the man laughed this time, there was a genuine smile behind it. “When you find it, let me know.”

 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Prisoner 4X-862?” came a voice from behind Link’s left shoulder. He glanced behind him to see the overseer approaching. Link couldn’t tell for certain, but he thought it was the same man as before, short and broad with a white hard hat, coveralls, and lanyard.

 

“Sorry, sir,” the tall man said, hastily laying the cloth padding over a bare block of marble.

 

“It’s fine,” Link said, stepping in between the two men and facing the overseer with his best apologetic expression. “I wasn’t watching what I was doing. Nearly got my hand crushed. He stopped me.”

 

“He’s a gorram malingerer. Second time today,” the overseer said, his hand dangerously close to the buttons on the silver device dangling from his neck. “I’ve got half a mind to turn this thing up to full power, see what it can do to a man.”

 

Link looked behind him and saw real fear in the tall man’s eyes as he turned back to face the overseer, head bowed, hands loose at his sides..

 

“I apologize, sir,” the tall man said, “It won’t happen again.”

 

The overseer glared at him and spat, “Get back to work, _chwen joo_.” As he walked away, Link watched the tension drain out of the tall man’s body. He took a deep breath, and glanced quickly at Link.

 

“Of course,” the tall man murmured, “this place may kill me yet.”

 

* * *

 

There were ten skids in total, forty tons of marble each. Link and his crew watched as the skids were connected together, five and five, to form two short trains. The tall man and the other laborer each picked up the lead chains, adjusted them over thick leather pads on their shoulders, and began, with some effort, to drag their loads out of the warehouse and into the afternoon sun. The antigrav units under each of the skids vibrated with the effort of keeping the blocks a few inches from the ground and propelling them slowly forward.

 

“Should we give them a hand?” Jen asked, eyeing the shorter of the two laborers as he struggled to start the load up the slightly inclined path towards the ship.

 

“Couldn’t hurt,” Link said with a nod. Jen was quick to approach the shorter laborer and offer to help. The man looked at her skeptically, but handed her one of the chains. He seemed shocked when she adjusted her jacket to pad her shoulder and began to pull, and between the two of them they started up the hill easily.

 

Chase was less confident approaching the tall man, but with a nod from his captain, he walked over with a tentative smile. Link was too far away to hear the conversation that ensued, but he watched the tall man pull the leather pads off his own shoulders and position them on Chase, handing him one of the chains and showing him how to grip it properly before they began to move forward again.

 

“There’s really no need for that,” the baron said to Link as he watched. “My men can handle the loads.”

 

“Faster if my crew helps out,” Link said with what he hoped was a placating smile. “We figured we’d be doing most of the hauling ourselves anyway.” In reality, he was glad Jen had made the suggestion in the first place. He thought back to his conversation with the tall man and the discomfort that was obvious on his face when he bent or lifted, and hoped that having Chase assist would at least make this one task easier for him.

 

“Baron Standish,” Link asked cautiously as they followed the cargo up the hill, “you said the men in the collars were criminals. Do you know anything about them?”

 

“Of course,” the baron said, “I selected them myself.”

 

“I’m curious about the tall one,” Link said. “Is he a troublemaker?”

 

“The overseers say he’s lazy, always complaining. But he’s never been real trouble. No fights, no drinking, no stealing.”

 

“Why was he in prison?”

 

“He was working as a courier for a small mining operation, and ran off with their payroll.”

 

“Did they get it back?” Link asked.

 

“Around half, I believe. He spent the rest, he says, paying off a debt. He claims it was a matter of life or death.”

 

Link nodded, watching as the tall man labored. Even with Chase assisting, it was obvious that he was doing a great deal of the work. The muscles in his arms and back strained with the effort, and without the padding the chain dug into his shoulder hard enough that he would almost certainly be bruised later. As they reached the top of the hill, the path to the cargo bay leveled off and some of the tension left the man’s body. He was hurting, Link could tell, and once they had the load fully on level ground he motioned to Chase to wait for a few minutes while he bent over, one hand on his knee, the other massaging his lower back with a pained look on his face. He didn’t seem to notice that the first load had already made its way into the cargo bay, and they were waiting on him.

 

This time, the overseer didn’t even approach the man first. From the corner of his eye, Link saw the him grab at the controller around his neck and, before he could say a word, the tall man fell to the ground, screaming.

 

“That’s three, boy. I warned you,” the overseer growled as the scream faded. He approached where the tall man lay curled on the ground in the fetal position, panting, eyes closed. “ _Ni bei bi shiou ren_! Get up!” He punctuated his shouting with another quick tap of the device, pulling a high keening sound from the tall man as he writhed on the ground.

 

The overseer released his grip on the controller, but the man on the ground simply lay there, trembling and shaking his head slowly. Link could see tears gathering in the corners of his closed eyes and heard an awful whimper rise from between the man’s clenched teeth. When he saw the overseer reach for the device again, a horrified sick feeling overwhelmed him. He rushed the shorter man, half-tackling him, and grabbed at his arm before he could activate the device again.

 

“ _Ni ching soh_!” Link shouted as he grappled with the overseer. “Give him a minute! He can hardly move!” He noticed in his peripheral vision that Chase had dropped to his knees beside the tall man and was speaking to him quietly, helping him to sit up and calling for someone to bring him some water.

 

“Captain Neal, Overseer Brixton, what seems to be the problem?” the baron asked as he approached.

 

“I think your overseer is trying to kill this man,” Link said, still gripping the overseer’s wrist.

 

“He’s been warned not to hold up operations with his complaining,” the overseer grumbled, yanking his hand out of Link’s grasp. “Third time today he’s done it.”

 

“What is he complaining about?” the baron asked.

 

“Weak back,” the overseer sneered. “Strong man like him, and he can’t swing a hammer more’n an hour without whining.”

 

Baron Standish sighed. “It’s unfortunate, but no reason to punish him so harshly. I’ll have him sent back to the prison. He can finish out his time there.”

 

“No.”

 

Link, the baron, and the overseer all turned to face the tall man, who was still sitting on the ground with Chase supporting him. He was pale and shaking, and his eyes were still wet, but his expression was serious and almost calm.

 

“Please, no,” the man said again, his voice raspy from screaming but firm nonetheless. “I won’t survive a week there. I can work, I swear it,” he said and began to stand. Chase quickly moved to try and help him up.

 

“No,” the baron said, gently. “No you can’t, son. I’m sorry. Farris--”

 

“Wait,” Link said, cutting the baron off. “Baron Standish, how much is left on his indenture?”

 

The baron furrowed his brow and thought for a moment. “He owes me three years, if I remember correctly.”

 

“Would you sell his contract to me?”

 

There was silence then, from all parties. The baron seemed lost for words for a moment, but then slowly nodded. “Normally you’d have to get it signed off by an Alliance bureaucrat of some description, but, well. Rank has its privileges.” He furrowed his brow. “But injured like he is, I don’t think he’ll be much use to you.”

 

“I saw him in the quarry, swinging a sledgehammer like it was nothing. I’m sure I can find something for him to do.” Link approached the tall man, who was now vertical but leaning heavily on Chase.

 

“Are you willing to work out the rest of your indenture for me?” Link asked him.

 

The tall man swallowed once and nodded, his eyes flicking cautiously between Link and the baron. “I am.”

 

“What’s your name?” Link asked him.

 

“Rhett McLaughlin, sir.”

 

“Welcome to the crew, Rhett. Chase, get him inside and take him to the infirmary. Have Josh check him out.”

 

“On it, Captain,” Chase said. But the look of relief on his face quickly changed to concern. “What about the rest of the cargo?”

 

“We got it,” called Jen as she led the other laborer back out towards the second set of skids. The two of them took up the chains and began pulling the second load in as Chase guided the tall man up the ramp and into the ship.

 

Overseer Brixton still fumed, glaring as he looked from the baron to Link and back again. Finally he ripped the lanyard off his neck and shoved it into Link’s hand. “He’s your problem now. _Gong xi._ Good riddance.” The man stomped off back towards the warehouse.

 

Link looked at the little silver gadget dangling from the cord. It looked so innocuous, just three buttons and a line of blue lights along the side. He grazed his finger over the lights and shivered, remembering the man’s--Rhett’s--howls of pain.

 

“Come along, m’boy. Let’s go write up the paperwork,” the baron murmured, taking hold of Link’s arm and guiding him back down to the manager’s office.


	2. Rhett

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rhett gets patched up and we meet Doctor(?) Josh.

The cool air inside the infirmary hit Rhett’s sweat-damp skin like a physical slap. He’d been working in the hot sun all day, and at any other time the air conditioning would have been a welcome change. But now his whole body ached, he was dizzy and exhausted from the effects of the control collar, and instead of feeling refreshed he was chilled and shivering all over. 

Chase must have noticed, because he immediately sat him down on the padded exam table and started digging around in one of the supply cabinets, emerging quickly with a blanket that he draped over Rhett’s bare shoulders.

“Thank you,” Rhett said, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

“No problem. Josh should be down in a second. Is there anything else I can get for you?”

Rhett shook his head and pulled the blanket tighter around his body. His throat felt raw and he didn’t trust himself to talk much just yet. Fortunately, Chase seemed to understand. He closed the cabinet he had been digging in and hopped up to sit on one of the countertops on the other side of the small examination room.

“You’ll like Josh,” Chase started, filling the silence. “He joined the crew a few months ago. Used to be a paramedic on Bellerophon, believe it or not. I guess rich folk get sick and hurt just like the rest of us.”

Rhett snorted a laugh at that and was was working up the energy to say something, but the words died in his throat when a young man walked in wearing an apron covered in fresh blood.

“Hey there,” the man said, calm and pleasant as anything. “You must be Rhett.”

Rhett tensed, readying himself to jump up and, well, he didn’t really know what. Fight? Run? He glanced across the room to Chase, who hadn’t moved from his seat. Chase cocked his head and furrowed his brows like he was confused. No help there. Rhett looked back up at the doctor and licked his lips quickly once, twice, before responding, “Yes.”

Josh looked puzzled for a moment at Rhett's hesitance, then followed his gaze down to his clothing. To Rhett's surprise, the man chuckled. “Oh, sorry. That's pretty unnerving, isn't it? I was cleaning fish upstairs.”

Rhett blinked a couple of times as the adrenaline began to fade.  

“Did you know there's a creek down the hill from here? Other side from the quarry of course.” Josh said as he stripped off the apron and threw it in a hamper in the corner, then turned to the sink to wash his hands. “I caught a few, I forget what they're called, those yellow-spotted ones? About ten inches long, real sweet and tender if you steam them.”

“Sweetbelly trout,” Rhett murmured. Josh looked up at him, eyebrows raised. “We used to catch 'em back home,” he added, wincing at how hoarse he sounded.

Josh nodded once and turned back to the sink to finish scrubbing his hands. “Anyway. I caught half a dozen of them while we were waiting to load the goods. Figured I'd cook them up tonight for supper. We don't see fresh fish very often, out in the black. It'll be a nice treat.”

Rhett licked his lips again, nodding. That phrase,  _ out in the black _ , had a sound to it that made his stomach coil in on itself. He’d never been off-world before, not even a quick moon-hop to Whitefall. He’d never planned to, never wanted to. The idea of “the black”, hurtling through space with the night sky on all sides, made him feel small and a little scared.

“So,” Josh started again, drying his hands. “Chase didn't tell me much over the comm, just that you're on the crew now, and you're hurting.” He pulled a rolling stool up next to the exam table and sat, leaning his elbows on his knees. “But I heard a bunch of shouting out here earlier, and my grandpa would say you look like twelve miles of torn-up road. From how your voice sounds, I'd guess you have one hell of a sore throat too. Sound about right? You can just nod or shake your head, it's fine.”

Rhett nodded again, musing how much less intimidating the man seemed without the bloody apron. He still had a powerful looking, athletic build, but his jeans and neat button down shirt, along with the round wire-frame glasses he wore, made him seem studious and somehow reassuring.

“Okay, then.” The doctor rolled the stool over to a supply cart at the end of the table and began pulling a few things out: stethoscope, dermal mender, and other items that Rhett couldn't readily identify.

“First things first. Anything broken? Or in serious pain?”

Rhett shook his head. He ached everywhere, his back especially, but it was nothing alarming. Nothing a little rest wouldn't cure. He hoped he would have the opportunity before the captain put him to work.

“How about your head?”

“Hurts,” Rhett managed to say, shrugging. “S'okay.”

“Did you hit it?”

“Dunno. Fell pretty hard.” The collar had made his memory fuzzy and jumbled, overwhelmed him with pain to the point that he barely remembered falling, just somehow ended up on the ground with bloody cuts all over him from the sharp gravel.

“Any sensitivity to light? Nausea? Light-headed, like you're going to pass out?”

He shook his head again, and Josh brought up a scope of some sort with a light on it. 

“Gonna check your pupils now, make sure they're dilating like they should. Sorry if this is bright.” He shone the light into Rhett's right eye first, then the left, and then right and left again. He nodded and murmured, “Looks alright,” before turning to set down the scope and make a few notes on a pad of paper on the counter behind him.

Rhett squinched his eyes shut after the light went away. His head still pounded, but the dizziness from earlier had faded, and he was starting to warm up enough to be comfortable. After a few moments, he opened his eyes again and looked around. Chase still sat on the counter, swinging his feet while examining the label on a bottle of what looked to be antiseptic. Rhett had hardly taken in much of the room until that moment, but now he noticed how...nice it was. Not fancy, but clean and organized. The exam table where he sat had a fresh white sheet covering it, but that was the only stark white thing in the room. The cupboards were most likely plastic but at least had a veneer that looked like warm wood. The countertops, flooring, and even the blanket draped around him were all a soft, sage-y green, and the metal fixtures were brushed chrome. The room didn't smell like any other clinic he remembered, either. Most hospitals he’d been in smelled like chlorine and death. This place just smelled clean. He wondered if it saw much use.

“Hey, Chase,” Josh said, barely looking up from his notes. “Think you could go find some clothes for him? Not sure we have pants long enough, but I think my T-shirts should fit him okay. There's clean stuff in my dresser. Maybe grab a pair of shorts and some socks from there too.” Josh turned back to Rhett as Chase hopped off the counter and left the room. “Hope that's okay. I figure you might want to get cleaned up and dressed before we head to the city. We need to resupply before we leave Athens. Maybe get you some clothes that fit.” 

“I...yeah, thank you,” Rhett said, surprised at the show of generosity. Clean clothes, clean  _ new  _ clothes, had been so far out of his purview for so long that the thought made him a little breathless. He wondered briefly if anyone would bring him his things from the bunkhouse. He didn’t have much there, just a change of clothing no better than the tattered jeans he was wearing now, a rat-eaten blanket, a few toiletries. His valuables, such as they were, were wrapped in a handkerchief that he kept tucked in his pocket at all times: a handful of coins, a pair of dice, and a guitar pick that served to remind him of better times.

“Okay, so I'm gonna examine you now,” Josh said, rolling the stool a little closer. “Heart, breathing, all the standard stuff. After that, we'll get you a shower, patch up some of those scrapes, and let you rest for a while. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Rhett rasped, nodding.

“Oh, and the sore throat. I'm guessing that was you screaming out there?”

Rhett nodded again, swallowing hard at the memory.

“I'll make you some tea later, to soothe it. Painkillers will help too, get you some of those in a bit. Does that collar come off?” Josh asked.

Rhett shook his head, jolting back out of reach and raising a protective hand to his throat. The first, and last, time he tried tampering with it, the pain made him see stars and damn near vomit. 

Josh raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa, okay, that's fine. I won't mess with it. What happens if you try to take it off?”

“Shocks the hell out of me,” Rhett rumbled. If he kept his voice low and quiet, he found, talking was a little easier. “Hurts real bad.”

Josh made a face. “Those control collars are barbaric. Does the captain have the key?”

“Prob'ly.”

“I'll ask when he comes back.” Josh turned to pick up the stethoscope and fit the eartips into his ears. “Okay, so first I'm gonna check your heart. Just breathe normally.”

Rhett relaxed a little as the examination went on. The doctor, or paramedic, or whatever he was, was quick and careful, narrating what he was doing the whole time. He had a calming sort of manner and didn't ask too many questions, which Rhett appreciated. Chase returned with some clothing for him just as the examination was ending. Josh handed Rhett a large, thick towel from one of the cabinets and directed him to a tiny bathroom with a shower, just off the exam room.

“I could send you up to the crew showers, but this is a little more private. Go ahead and get cleaned up. There's soap under the sink in there. Come back out when you're ready, and I'll take a look at those scratches.”

* * *

Rhett entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him. The room was cramped, and unlike the clinic, very white and starkly lit. There was a toilet, shower, sink, and just barely enough room to stand between them, especially for a lanky giant. He stripped off his dirty, tattered work pants, underwear, socks, and boots and kicked them into the corner next to the toilet. Then he located a bar of soap under the sink and turned on the shower.

It took him a couple minutes to figure out how to set the temperature, but once he had it acceptably warm, he climbed in and stood under the spray. He stayed there for a long while, relishing the feeling of the warm water melting the dirt and blood off him and soothing his aching body. It stung on the cuts and scrapes, but felt so good everywhere else that he didn't care. Filthy water collected around his feet before draining away, and he waited until it ran clear before he began to wash. He scrubbed until his skin was pink and warm and his fingers were beginning to prune. There was no shampoo to be found in the tiny bathroom, so he lathered up his hair and beard with the same soap. It smelled a little strange, like wood shavings and some sort of warm spice, but it wasn't unpleasant. Finally, once he was cleaner than he'd been in years, he turned the water up as hot as he could tolerate and put his hands against the far wall, leaning forward to focus the spray on his lower back. He hissed at the heat at first, but as it penetrated into the muscles around his back, he closed his eyes and bowed his head. Slowly, everything began to relax and the constant ache eased just a little. It was enough to make him groan in relief.

Eventually the water began to cool and his exhaustion started pulling him towards the promise of sleep. He turned off the shower head and stepped out into the humid bathroom. The mirror above the sink was fogged over, and he swiped at it with his towel to get a good look at himself. The face that looked back at him was more gaunt than he remembered, browned from working in the sun, with heavy bags under bloodshot eyes that made him look even more impossibly tired than he felt. His beard and hair were both longer than he realized--hair nearly down to his shoulders, beard unkempt and bushy. Lacking a comb, he ran his fingers through his hair until it fell in some semblance of order and smoothed his beard as best he could. He toweled off the rest of himself and examined the clothes Chase had brought him.

The grey T-shirt with the Blue Sun company logo fit perfectly. The shorts were olive green with a drawstring waist, and shorter on him than he liked, but they were clean and worn to a pleasant softness. He dug into the pocket of his old pants and pulled out the little bundle he kept with him, slipping it into the pocket of the shorts where it sat as a comforting weight against his thigh. He pulled on the clean socks as well, and considered putting on his boots, but they were so battered and filthy that they would have just gotten the socks dirty, so he gathered his discarded clothes and the boots and padded back out to the clinic in stocking feet.

* * *

Josh looked up from the show he was watching on the Cortex terminal when he approached, “Hey. Feel a little better?”

“Yes,” Rhett said with a half-smile. “Tired, though.”

“I bet.” Josh gestured toward the exam table again. “Okay, hop up there and we’ll get you patched up.”

Rhett perched himself on the table, setting his old clothing beside him and his boots on the floor next to his feet. Josh pointed at the clothes.

“Can I take those? Get them washed for you?”

Rhett hesitated for a moment, but nodded. Josh gathered the items and put them into the hamper where his apron had ended up.

“Promise you’ll get ‘em back. Chase and I are the ones who usually do laundry. We’ll remember.”

“‘Preciate it.”

“Of course. Alright, here, let me see your arm,” Josh said, holding out his hand. Rhett cautiously placed his left wrist in Josh’s hand, allowing the doctor to turn his arm so he could get a better look at the raw scratches and scrapes up the back of it. The beam of the dermal mender felt almost too warm on his skin, but it made quick work of knitting the flesh back together, leaving a network of shiny pink scars.

Josh inspected his work carefully when it was done. “Yeah, that should heal up nice. The scars will fade in a week or two. Okay, other arm.”

Josh continued finding and sealing up scrapes and cuts on Rhett’s skin--his right arm, his back, below his left ear, the whole side of his left knee where he must have hit the ground first. It was a slow and meticulous process, and by the end Rhett was trying to conceal his yawns, not wanting to seem ungrateful. 

Finally Josh put the dermal mender down. Rhett stretched as inconspicuously as he could manage, stiff from sitting so long and aching to lay down.

“That’s about all I can do for you right now,” the doctor said, digging around in a drawer until he pulled out a paper packet of pills, which he opened and handed to Rhett along with a paper cup of water. “Those’ll help with the pain. You ought to get some rest too. There’s a recovery room across the hall where you can sleep. I figure the captain will set you up with a permanent bed, but that’ll have to wait ‘til he gets back.”

“Don’t know if I rate that high,” Rhett said with a rueful laugh, fingering the collar around his neck.

“What, you think he’ll make you sleep on the floor or something?” Josh returned with a grin. “Captain’s not that kind of guy.”

“What kind of guy is he?” Rhett asked after he downed the pills and water. He’d agreed to work for the man almost entirely out of the desperate hope that his situation couldn’t get any worse, but he was starting to realize that he had very little idea of who he was, or what he, Rhett, had signed on for.

“Captain Neal’s a good man. Honest and fair. Funny. A good businessman.” Josh thought for a while. “He takes care of his crew. Pretty sure that includes you now.”

Rhett considered that. He was still indentured, that he knew. But was he crew now, like the captain had said? Was he a prisoner, or a slave? Something else? Sleep was calling for him, and he was too tired to consider all of the possibilities right then. He took a deep breath and let it out as a long sigh.

“Yeah, it’s a lot to take in, right? Look, let’s get you to that bed. You’ll feel better after some rest.” Josh helped Rhett down from the table, then led him across a short hallway to the recovery room. There were various medical monitoring machines and IV stands and things in there, but the most important thing for Rhett at the moment was the bed. He sat down, trying to remember the last time he slept on a real mattress.

“I’ll be in the clinic for a while, cleaning up if you need me. If I’m not there when you wake up, you can hit the comm,” he said, pointing to the radio panel on the wall. “Or just go out the door, hang a right, and when you get to the cargo bay, take a left and go up the stairs. I’ll probably be up in the common room making dinner.”

“You really are the doctor and the cook?”

“We don’t have much need for a doctor most of the time, so yeah. I do other things too, supply clerk and stuff like that. Keeping inventory. Laundry.” Josh chuckled to himself. “Jack of all trades.” He headed for the door, dimming the lights before stepping out. “Rest. I’ll be back to check on you later.”

Rhett laid back on the mattress as the door closed. He was clean and dressed in fresh clothing, his wounds had been tended, and the painkillers were starting to take effect; it was the most comfortable he could remember feeling in a long time. His mind was still buzzing with questions, and worries, and not a little fear, but his body won the fight and he soon fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.


	3. Link

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Link gets an earful from Josh, Stevie, and his own conscience.

He’d spent nearly two gorram hours with the baron, drawing up paperwork and discussing labor regulations and criminal justice, and Link was more than ready to get his boat off the ground and back out into the black. He trudged back up the hill towards the ship with a leather folder of paperwork under one arm and the little silver controller tucked into his jacket pocket. 

Inside, he hit the comm panel beside the door. “Everyone on board, Stevie?”

“Aye-aye, captain.” Her voice sounded tinny and distant through the speaker.

“Then seal her up and let’s get airborne.”

“You got it. Off the ground in ten minutes.” 

His next stop was the infirmary. He found Josh there, changing the sheet on the exam bed.

“How is he?” Link asked, without preamble.

“Sleeping, right now. Checked on him a few minutes ago. He’s pretty beat up, but he’ll be okay.”

Link nodded, rubbing his eyes. “Good.”

“Speaking of sleep, you look like you could use a long nap yourself.”

“Later. Gotta make the stop in Peachtree first, get stocked up and refueled.”

“You got the inventory list I left you?”

“Yeah, back on my desk” Link said. “Don’t know how we’re gonna find all of it. Or afford it.”

“You need me to narrow it down? We can do without the antibiotics for a while--technically the ones we have are expired, but that date doesn’t actually mean much and I’m sure they’re still fine. We do need the extra charges for the dermal mender, though. I just used a bunch patching up our new crewmate. He...is a crewmate, yes?” Josh stopped, looking Link in the eye. “You haven’t developed the sudden desire to own a slave, have you?”

“He’s not a slave.”

“I notice you didn’t answer my first question.”

“He’s...yeah, he’s crew now. It’s complicated.”

“That collar’s coming off, though, right?”

“Well. He’s technically still indentured. There are rules and stuff.”

“Link.”

“Look,” Link said, a little sharper than he meant to. “I’m not going to use the collar. Ever. You have my word on that. I saw what it does and it made me sick.”

“Can you take it off? I mean,” Josh started again before Link could argue, “are you actually, like, able to remove it?”

Link nodded.

“I want to check underneath, make sure the electrodes or whatever haven’t burned him. He wouldn’t let me touch it earlier. Said messing with it would shock him.”

“Yeah, it would.” Link felt an uncomfortable chill at the thought. The baron had explained to him how the control collars work, and though he didn’t understand some of the technical talk, he was clear on one thing: they were designed to cause pain, and they did it very well. “Okay, I’ll take it off so you can check him out. Just, can it wait until he’s awake? I don’t wanna wake him up just for that.”

“I hope you’re also planning to pick up some decent clothes and stuff for him in Peachtree. I mean, I loaned him some clothing for now, but...”

“Yeah, we’ll have to. They wouldn’t even let me take his things. Said it was all company property. Josh,” he said with a tired sigh, “please don’t worry. I promise you that he will be taken care of. And treated well.”

Josh looked hard at the captain, and Link got the sense that he was being examined, a bug under a microscope. It made him want to squirm, and he tried to fight the urge while meeting Josh’s eyes. It was unnerving, sometimes, the way the doctor could read folks. It made the captain wonder if Josh had more going on in his head than just good instincts and a keen eye. 

Whatever the doctor was looking for in Link’s eyes or expression, he must have found it because after a long moment, he nodded. 

“Okay.”

“Okay,” Link echoed. “I gotta go up to the bridge and check in with Stevie. We should be landing in the city in about three hours. Will you let me know when he wakes up?”

“Sure thing,” the doctor said, smoothing down the sheet on the exam table. “Seriously, though, man. Try to take a nap before we land. You look dead tired.”

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Link mumbled as he turned to leave.

 

* * *

Link stumbled on the steps up to the bridge when he felt the ship leave the ground. The  _ Belvedere _ ’s stabilizers were good, but there was always a little lurch to her when she lifted off or entered atmo. Seemed to be common with these Firefly-class boats. They were good ships, real workhorses, but they had their quirks.

On the bridge, Stevie was focused on flying and didn’t pay much attention when Link entered, other than to call, “Hey there, Cap,” over her shoulder. Link settled himself in the copilot’s seat and gazed out the front of the ship as they rose higher, enough that he could see the black rising overhead even as the planetary horizon shimmered in front of them.

“Looks like you’ve got it handled,” Link said, as Stevie started to relax back in her seat. 

“They say takeoffs and landings are the most dangerous part of air travel,” she responded. “I think that’s why I like the long-haul cruises.”

“Gonna be nearly six weeks to Sihnon, and nary a stop on the way. You’re looking forward to that?”

“Yep. Easy life for a pilot, out in the black with nothing to run into.”

“I oughta dock your pay,” Link said with a wink.

“You dock my pay, I dock your ship,” she responded with a laugh and a mock glare.

“Nah," Link relented, "I’d never do that. You’d leave me for sure then, and where would I find another first mate who could give me this much back-sass?”

“Nowhere,” Stevie answered with a sweet smile. She fiddled with the controls for a moment, adjusting and re-adjusting before speaking again. “So I hear we took on a new crewmate?”

Link sighed. With a crew this small and this tight, there was nearly no way to hold on to any sort of secret for long. Still, he wished he could have been the one to break the news to his second-in-command.

“Who told you?”

“Jen came up after she finished with the cargo.”

“You gonna give me trouble for not asking you first?”

“Not my place to give you trouble," she said, her expression stern. It make Link feel a little like a child who had disappointed his mother. "Not unless you deserve it. You want to tell me what happened?”

Link gave her an abridged version of the story, skipping entirely over the part where his heart fluttered just getting close to the man. Her face softened when he got to the part about the overseer and the collar, but he could tell that there was still a twinge of irritability to her look.

“So. You purchased an injured, indentured convict and brought him on the ship without so much as mentioning it to anyone beforehand.  _ Jing tsai _ .” She sighed. “Not that it was wrong, considering. But I would have appreciated a warning.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“How much did you pay?”

“Um. Nine hundred credits.”

Stevie opened her mouth, closed it, took a deep breath, and through gritted teeth, asked, “That’s going to cut into our profits, isn’t it?”

“No,” Link tried to reassure her. “It’s from my own pocket.”

“Oh, so he’s  _ your _ injured, indentured convict slave.”

“It’s not like that, Stevie! I swear! He’s part of the crew now.”

“Has he ever been on a ship before?”

Link started to respond, and realized that he had no idea. He shrugged instead, looking away. “I don’t know. I didn’t ask.”

“Did you even tell him that’s where he was going?”

“Well, I mean, it was pretty obvious. The  _ Belvedere _ was sitting right there.”

Stevie closed her eyes, pursing her lips. “Right. Okay.” It was several moments before she opened them again. “Where is he right now? In the infirmary?”

“Sleeping, yeah.”

“What are you planning to do when he wakes up?”

“Talk to him, I guess. Explain what’s going on. If he’s awake when we get to Peachtree, I want to take him into town with us and get him some clothes.”

“What, didn’t he bring anything with him?”

“Just what he was wearing. They wouldn’t let me grab anything else.”

“Slave-driving _tah mah duh_ _hwun dan_ ,” Stevie grumbled.

“Who happen to technically be our employers and clients, remember.” Link scolded. The baron was still a family friend, after all.

“Not thrilled about that turn of events, Captain. Just so you know.”

Link didn’t have a good response to that, so he just nodded and stayed silent. For several minutes, neither of them spoke. Stevie turned back to the ship controls, even though the autopilot was engaged. Link let himself get lost in the hum of the engine and the view of the horizon. He’d been out in the black almost full time for over a decade, but the view from above a planet was still one of his favorite things in the universe. He could let himself believe for a while that his ship, his crew, were the most important things in the world, and that everything else was small and very far away. 

After a while, he felt his eyelids begin to droop. Josh was right; he was nearly asleep on his feet. 

“‘Bout to doze off right here,” he mumbled, stretching his arms in a vain attempt to wake himself up.

Stevie sighed and shook her head. “Yeah, I noticed. Go get some rest, Link. I’ll let you know when we get close.”

“Yes, ma’am.” he said with a half smile. He clasped Stevie's shoulder briefly as he rose and headed toward his bunk. He took it as a sign of forgiveness that she didn’t shrug him off.

 

* * *

For being the largest berth on the ship, the captain’s quarters were sparsely furnished. The only real luxury Link afforded himself was a double bed instead of the narrow singles in the rest of the bunks. It made sense for him; he wasn’t as tall as Rhett, certainly, but at just over six feet, he was not a small man. The bed was neatly made up and covered with a blue quilt, which was a gift from the cook back at his parents’ home on Londinium. She’d loved him nearly as much as his own mother did, and had cried when he left home to go to university. He missed her sometimes, when he looked at that blanket. He hadn’t been back home in years.

The bed was behind a simple, dark wood privacy screen with blue and gold brocade peeking from between the slats. Beyond that, the only furniture in the room was a chest of drawers, a desk with a polished walnut top and his personal Cortex terminal off to the side, and two straight-backed chairs so that the space could double as his office. The clutter was kept to a minimum as well; just a few photos, a couple of books, a handful of documents he had yet to file. Link moved behind the desk and placed the leather folder containing Rhett’s paperwork into the drawer, locking it afterwards to ward off prying eyes. It wasn’t something he was proud of, owning a man. Even temporarily. 

It had been an impulsive decision. Stupid, probably, he realized after the fact. All he knew about Rhett was what the baron and Rhett himself had told him, and that was very little. He was a non-violent criminal and a thief who probably had some bad folks after him; his prison record was exemplary in terms of his behavior; he was strong but had a bad back; he was quick and observant as well, given how fast he had reacted to Link’s near-accident. The profile the baron provided mentioned that the man was born and raised on Athens and had worked for a mining company before becoming a criminal, the same company he stole the payroll from. Funny thing was, he’d been working for them for three years at the time, and had never stolen a thing before that. No criminal record. That struck Link as strange. Rhett had told the court that it was a life or death situation, but refused to elaborate further. It was an explanation that made Link burn with curiosity. He thought about logging in to the Cortex, trying to pull up some additional information about his new crew member, but his eyes were starting to feel strained and gritty and he didn’t think he could keep them open long enough to learn anything new.

Next to the dresser, hidden behind a sliding panel, was a toilet and basin with a mirror over it. Link stepped up to the sink and turned on the cold water, splashing it over his face to see if it would wake him up sufficiently. It helped, briefly. As he brought the towel up to dry himself, however, he happened to glance in the mirror. The blue eyes that stared back at him looked worn and a little bloodshot, with bags beginning to form under them from too little sleep over the past few days while he had been busy hunting down the next job, the next client. His friendly relationship with the baron had been a boon in getting his current cargo--the man and his company could afford damn near any shipping arrangement they wanted. Faster ships, more prestigious captains, bigger companies. But he’d been doing business with Link’s father since Link was a small child, and now that Dad was out of the business, that honor was passed along to Link himself. He was grateful to the baron for the work and the money, as much as he was wary of his ideas on criminal justice and the ethics of forced labor.

Link looked himself in the mirror once more, and decided that maybe a nap would do him good after all. He crossed the room to the bed and flopped down on top of the quilt, not bothering to even kick off his shoes until he was already horizontal. After a few moments, he rearranged himself to be comfortable, with his head on the pillow and one hand resting loose atop his stomach while the other lay flat on the bed. Closing his eyes, he stroked at the seams of the fabric beneath him with his fingertips, tracing the diamonds and squares that made up the quilt's starburst pattern. It was an old habit, a nervous tic that had worn the cloth thin in places. If he looked down, he knew he would recognize a number of the fabrics as parts of his father’s shirts, or his own clothing from childhood, as well as patches he himself had applied to repair the thin spots and holes. His own handiwork was obvious, with its crooked seams and off-kilter placement, but he loved the quilt and the comfort it lent him too much to let it fall apart.

His mind drifted through the events of the day lazily as he began to slip toward unconsciousness. Eventually, however, his imagination turned to the tall, handsome man who lay sleeping at the other end of the ship. The image in his mind's eye was of the first time he saw Rhett, standing shirtless with his hair and beard glowing golden in the sun and a sheen of sweat glistening on his arms and chest, his movements fluid and powerful as he swung the sledge. Link imagined his own hands wandering through that golden hair and beard, over that warm tanned skin. In his mind he felt the rippling of each muscle beneath his palms as they slid from shoulders, to pectorals, to abdomen, tracing the waistline of the man's trousers before following the trail of tawny curls on his belly to where they dipped beneath the fabric. He could almost hear the soft, needy moans, in the same warm baritone that rumbled against his back earlier in the day. His body stirred at the image, even as sleep tried to claim him.

Suddenly, unbidden, his mind overlaid that vision with a memory of the tall man writhing in the dust, bleeding from a dozen ragged cuts as an animal scream tore from his throat. Jolted from his comfortable state, Link inhaled harshly and forced a swallow, squeezing his eyes tight against his own guilt. Whatever arousal had started warming his loins died in an instant and was replaced with a knot of horror in his gullet. He thought of the contract he signed, buried now in the recesses of his desk. He had claimed ownership of the man. The contract was an ugly thing; it stripped Rhett of his rights, entitled Link to use him nearly any way he saw fit. The cold, legalistic language horrified him, in some ways even worse than watching the overseer torture the tall man. And yet he had signed it, agreed to it, telling his conscience that he would do right by the man regardless. And that, he told himself firmly, meant that whatever attraction he felt needed to be put aside. He was Rhett’s warden, employer, and caretaker. Not his lover.

Eventually his heart slowed, and he was able to relax again, though he refused to allow his thoughts to drift back to fantasy. As Link lay in the dimly lit room, it was the steady pulse of  _ Belvedere _ ’s engine that lulled him to sleep.


	4. Rhett

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Rhett gets a taste of good food and freedom.

When Rhett woke, he noticed that someone had cleaned his boots. They stood next to the bed, still pretty battered, but no longer filthy with caked mud and grit from the quarry. The dark brown leather had been oiled, and the laces, which were broken and too short to lace up all the way, had been replaced. 

He sat up slowly, waiting to see if his body would stand the strain. To his surprise, much of the pain in his head and body had faded. There was still some residual stiffness, a reminder not to take it too fast, but he felt...good. He stretched side-to-side experimentally, finding that his back was still achy, but less than before. 

Still seated, he bent down and slid the boots on, lacing them nice and snug. His hand slipped to his pocket, patting it to be sure his little bundle was still safe inside. Then, holding on to the bedside table for support, he slowly rose to his feet. The world didn’t spin; no pain came crashing down on him. It was a very, very good sign.

The room was still dim, and he made his way to the light switch by the door, easing the dimmer up halfway until he could see the buttons on the comm panel. He found the one for the common room and pressed it.

“Um, hello? Doctor?” he called. His voice was still hoarse and rough from sleep.

“Rhett!” came the doctor’s response. “You’re awake. Come on up when you’re ready. Do you remember the way?”

“Think so,” he answered. “I’ll be up there in a minute.”

“Cool. See you soon.”

The comm panel went quiet and he dropped his hand away from the buttons. The door was just to the left, and he opened it slowly and peeked outside, still nervous though he couldn’t say exactly why. The lights in the short hallway were very bright compared to the recovery room, and he squinted as he stepped out and tried to remember Josh’s directions from earlier. He turned right down the hallway and walked past the door to the exam room, then out of the infirmary and into the cargo area. He paused when he saw the towering blocks of marble lashed to the metal deck, reminded with startling clarity of the events that led him to the ship. His fingertips brushed the cool metal of the collar unconsciously and he took a moment to calm himself, peering around the cargo area before continuing toward the steps to his left.

About halfway up the steps, he realized he could smell something cooking. It smelled incredible, whatever it was, and he followed his nose all the way to the top of the steps and through the doorway to the right. Inside, he found Josh standing in front of a stove with two large pots, dropping blobs of some kind of dough into one of them.

Josh turned around as Rhett entered. “Hey, come on in. I’m just getting some supper ready. We’re due to hit Peachtree in about an hour.”

“What are you making?” Rhett asked as he approached. He drew up behind Josh and peered over his shoulder into the pot, which seemed to be half-full of oil.

“I’m frying up some hush puppies to go with the fish stew.” He gestured to the second pot, which Rhett could see was full of vegetables and large chunks of white fish meat. “The fish were kind of too small to feed all of us, so I figured I could toss them in with some canned vegetables and potatoes, make something a little more filling.”

“Smells great,” Rhett said, impressed.

“Thanks, man,” Josh said with a grin. “Hey, your voice still sounds pretty rough. Would you like me to make you some tea now?”

Rhett swallowed, feeling the soreness coming back, and nodded. “That would be nice, thanks,” he answered, moving to sit down at the table in the middle of the room.

“No problem. Oh, probably ought to ring up the captain, too. He wanted to see you when you woke up.”  

“Oh. Um. Should I be here?” Rhett asked, moving to stand up again.

Josh placed a hand on his shoulder, urging him to stay seated. “Don’t worry, you’re fine. You can relax.”

_ Easier said than done _ , Rhett thought. Still, he allowed himself to settle in the chair. Josh moved around the kitchen behind him, filling a kettle with water and placing it on the range top to boil before crossing to the comm panel. 

Josh pressed a button and spoke into the comm. “Captain?”

“Hey Josh,” came a woman’s voice. “He’s in his bunk, I think, napping. Is our new friend awake?”

“Yeah, he’s up. Thanks Stevie, I’ll try him down there.”

Josh pressed a different button on the panel. “Link? You awake?”

There was silence for a few moments before a groggy voice came back. “Josh? That you?”

“Yeah, Cap, it’s me. Sorry to wake you, but you said to let you know when Rhett woke up. He’s here with me in the kitchen.”

“Oh. Yeah, okay, thanks, I’ll be there in a few.” Rhett thought he heard a muted yawn over the staticky speaker.

“Okay,” Josh said, letting go of the button and stepping away from the comm. He crossed back to the stove and began fishing the hush puppies out of the frying oil.

Rhett fidgeted in his chair for a minute before turning it so he could see both Josh and the entrance. He tried to convince himself that Josh was right and he was safe here, but a year of wearing the collar and being constantly on the lookout for the overseers, not to mention watching his back around the other laborers, kept him on edge despite the doctor’s reassurances. He could tell Josh noticed, but to his relief the man said nothing about it. Instead, he pulled a bowl out of one of the cupboards and ladled some of the stew into it.

“Here,” he said, placing the bowl and a spoon in front of Rhett. “Taste that and tell me what you think.”

Rhett quirked an eyebrow at Josh and snorted a short laugh to himself. He realized what the doctor was doing, trying to feed him and make him comfortable without drawing attention to it. It was a considerate thing, and he was grateful for it. He picked up the spoon and took a bite of stew. It was creamy, like a chowder, and far richer than he was used to. The fish was just as sweet and mild as he remembered from his childhood. 

“There's dill in this, right?” he asked. “It's good.”

Josh grinned. “Yeah? Thanks. There is dill in it; onion and garlic too. Not fresh, unfortunately, but I make do, you know.”

“I can't believe you made this from canned vegetables and a few fish,” Rhett said, taking another bite. Josh grabbed a couple hush puppies from the plate where they were cooling and handed them to him on a paper napkin.

“Try those too. Should be cool enough to eat now.”

Rhett picked one up and bit into it, suddenly ravenous after tasting the stew. The outsides were crisp, and the insides were soft and fluffy and flavored with onion. 

“Really good,” he murmured around a mouthful of the fried dough. 

“Glad you think so,” Josh said, beaming. “Eat up, man. I'm sure you're hungry.”

Rhett chuckled under his breath and kept eating. In almost no time, he had devoured both hush puppies and half the bowl of stew. Josh was just setting a steaming mug of tea and two more of the fritters down in front of him when the captain walked in.

Setting his spoon down, Rhett tried to stand, out of respect and habit, but the captain waved him back to his seat.

“No, no, go ahead and eat,” the captain urged, pulling a chair out from the table and sitting down on the adjacent side. Rhett nodded, careful not to make prolonged eye contact with his...employer? Owner? That had never gone well for him in the past.

“Thank you, sir,” he responded. He tentatively took another bite of the stew, willing himself to slow his pace instead of wolfing it down like he had been doing.

“You hungry, Cap?” Josh asked. 

“I could eat. What’cha got?”

“Trout stew and hush puppies.”

“Where’d we get trout?” the captain asked as Josh dished up his food.

“I went fishing while you were out schmoozing with the baron.”

“Did I approve you leaving the boat? Don’t think I remember that,” the captain said, cocking one eyebrow.

“You said I was in charge of provisions. I took it literally,” Josh answered with a grin as he set the bowl down in front of the captain.

Rhett stayed quiet, eyes flicking back and forth between the two men, bemused at their banter. He was used to orders given and orders taken, superiors and subordinates. Not whatever this was. 

The captain began to eat, and Rhett stole a few longer glances at him while he seemed to be distracted. He’d noticed the man was attractive from the first moment their eyes met in the warehouse, and had even taken a little guilty pleasure in their brief encounter when pulling him away from the falling block of marble, holding on to him for perhaps a fraction longer than really necessary. It wasn’t often he thought like that anymore; he’d hardly looked at a man since he was arrested, at least not that way. Or a woman, for that matter. But now he wanted to take the time to really observe the captain. Rhett noticed his hair first, near-black and neatly styled, with a striking swath of silver running through it. It set off his intensely blue eyes behind the dark-framed glasses he wore. He had on the same clothes he wore at the quarry, jeans and a turquoise plaid shirt, with chamois leather work boots that, to Rhett’s surprise, were well-kept but still scuffed and a little beat-up. The idea that the captain was not the sort to sit back and give orders, but actually worked enough for it to show on his boots, was somehow comforting to him. The only thing missing from his outfit earlier in the day was the shearling jacket he’d been wearing as a buffer against the wind and dust.

“I don’t think I introduced myself properly, back at the quarry,” the captain said, catching Rhett's eyes with a crooked little smile. “As much as I appreciate you calling me ‘sir’, my name’s Link Neal. Well, Charles Lincoln Neal. The third. Most of the crew call me Link, or Captain, or just Cap.” 

Rhett dropped his gaze back into his bowl. He licked his lips before answering. “What would you prefer I call you?”

“Don’t care, long as it’s polite. And not Charles.”

Rhett glanced up, hearing the laugh in the captain’s voice. The man’s smile had grown to a giant grin. 

_ He’s joking with you _ , Rhett’s mind whispered.

_ He’s testing you _ .

_ He’s even handsomer when he smiles.  _ Rhett banished that thought immediately.

“Hey,” the captain said, a little softer, but still grinning. “I don’t bite, man. Hell, you grabbed me from behind and I didn’t complain. Appreciate you not lettin’ me get my hand crushed, by the way.”

“You’re welcome,” Rhett said, a smile pulling on the corners of his mouth at the memory. He still didn’t quite feel capable of meeting the captain’s eyes for more than a moment.

“How are you feeling?” the captain asked, his expression gone soft with concern. 

“Fine, uh, Captain,” Rhett answered, trying the address on for size. It felt strange in his mouth. “The doctor did a good job patching me up.” He looked over at Josh, who gave him a quick smile before going back to his cooking.

“Glad to hear it,” the captain answered. “Josh mentioned that he wanted to take a look at your neck. Under the collar, I mean.” The man slipped a hand into his pocket, pulling out the small silver controller.

The spoon fell from Rhett’s hand when he saw the device, and he swore he felt his heart stop for a second. An involuntary whimper slipped from his throat as he flinched back, bracing himself for pain.

It didn’t come. Instead, he heard a chair scraping against the floor, and felt a gentle hand on his arm.

“Hey, no,” Link murmured. Rhett opened his eyes to slits, and found the captain crouched next to him, looking up with sorrow etched on his face. The silver controller sat, untouched, across the table. “Rhett, I’m not going to do that. I won’t hurt you.  _ Dohn-ma _ ?” He felt Link’s thumb rubbing lightly against his arm, like he was trying to comfort him.

“ _ D-dohn _ .” Rhett responded when he finally found his voice again. “I understand.”

“Sorry I scared you,” Link said, before looking away as if he were ashamed. “Not the first dumb thing I’ve done.” Rhett wasn’t sure how to respond to that; he sat still, trying to calm his breathing, acutely aware of Link’s thumb still stroking his arm. Link eventually looked back up, and his hand stilled before he continued, “What I was actually going to do was take the damn thing off.”

“Off?” Rhett echoed, not sure that he trusted what he was hearing.

Link let go of his arm and stood up. “I mean, not permanently. I can’t, not yet. It’s… complicated. But I want to make sure it isn’t, like, causing you permanent damage or anything.”

“Oh.” He wanted to be disappointed, but Rhett knew he had no reason to expect that he would get anything like real freedom, not any time soon. Even having the collar off for a minute or two would be nice, if only for the illusion.

“I need the controller in order to deactivate the locking mechanism. I promise that’s all I’m going to do, okay?” Link was looking at him intently, and it took Rhett a moment to realize that he was waiting for a response.

“Okay. Yes,” Rhett answered, nodding. He watched as Link picked up the silver device and moved to stand behind him. He heard a three little beeps, and then felt cool fingers on the back of his neck, working at the clasp. He grit his teeth, remembering how bad it hurt the last time he tried to remove it himself. After a few seconds, though, the ever-present, slight pressure on his throat disappeared. He lifted a hand to his neck, almost surprised to feel bare skin. 

The captain set the collar carefully on the table in front of him. Rhett hadn’t ever really seen the inside of it. He wasn’t given the opportunity when they put it on him, and it hadn’t been removed since then, so he’d really been going by feel the whole time. He’d been mostly right in his guesses; the inside of the collar was lined with two rows of raised metal points, blunted on the tips so they wouldn’t break skin. They were spaced about an inch apart around the entire circumference of the collar. The inner backing was silicone rubber, which he suspected was just there to keep it from shorting out.

“ _ Ai yah tien ha _ ,” Josh murmured as he picked the collar up and ran it through his hands. “That looks brutal.”

Rhett had to agree. He nodded, licking his lips quickly. Josh handed the collar to the captain and pulled a chair over to where Rhett sat. 

“There’s some redness,” Josh said, looking critically at Rhett’s throat. “Any pain at all?

“No.” Rhett said. And there wasn’t; the collar had never been comfortable, exactly, but it wasn’t really painful either, when it wasn’t activated. It was just always there, a reminder of his crime and his status.

“I’m going to check for, like, burns or scarring or anything, okay?” Josh asked. Rhett nodded, and Josh touched two fingers to the side of his neck, saying, “Let me know if anything hurts.”

The captain moved back to his chair with the collar in his hands and sat down, watching while Josh examined Rhett’s neck. Rhett tilted his head and pulled his too-long hair aside with one hand to give Josh more access as he looked for signs of irritation or injury. Finally, the doctor leaned back in his chair.

“Well,” he began, “I’m not seeing any permanent damage, or burns, or anything like that. The skin is a little irritated in places, but that’s to be expected with the collar being worn for any length of time. When’s the last time you had it off?”

“When the overseers put it on me,” Rhett said. “Just over a year ago.”

Link and Josh shot looks of disgust and distress at each other. Josh cast a glance back at Rhett, saying “That’s horrible, man. I’m sorry.”

The three of them sat quietly for a few moments. Finally, the captain broke the silence.

“Let’s finish eating. Rhett, I'd like to talk to you privately before we go into town.”

“Okay,” he said, reaching for the cup of tea, which had cooled enough now to be drinkable. He glanced at the collar in Link’s hand. “Are you going to put that back on, sir?”

“Later,” Link said, setting it down next to his bowl and picking up his spoon. “Just, don’t worry about it right now.”

Rhett nodded.

 

* * *

After their meal, Rhett followed Captain Neal out of the galley, down a long corridor with hatches set low on each side. At the far end, just before a set of stairs, the captain stopped and lifted one of the hatches, revealing a short set of steep steps and a room below.

“My office,” the captain said. “Come on, we can talk privately in here.” He gestured toward the steps, indicating that Rhett should go enter first.

Rhett had to duck to make it under the doorway, but inside the room was tall enough for him to stand at full height. He caught sight of the privacy screen first, and a peek of the rumpled bed beyond it, before Link came up behind him and directed him to a chair in front of the desk. When he was seated, Link took his seat behind the desk, pulling the collar from his pocket and setting it off to the side. Rhett couldn’t help but stare at the offending object.

“Hey,” Link said kindly, pulling Rhett’s attention back to him. “Like I said, don’t worry about that right now. Kind of what I wanted to talk to you about, actually. Well, one of the the things.” He pulled a small silver key from somewhere and bent down to the desk drawer. Rhett heard him unlock the drawer, and watched as he pulled out a familiar thick leather-bound folder and set it on the desk.

“Is that…”

“Your indenture contract, yes.” Link flipped the folder open. “Did you read it when you signed it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It’s a piece of work, isn’t it?” Link said, scowling a little at the papers in front of him. “You must have been pretty desperate to get out of the prison to go through with it.”

“Like I said, sir, it was that or probably getting killed in my sleep.”

“I’m curious about that,” Link said, those piercing blue eyes meeting Rhett’s like lasers. “Wanna tell me who’s got you so scared that you’d sign yourself, body and soul, over to a marble baron?”

Rhett had to look away, still wary of that intense gaze. He bit his lip, considering. “I owed some folks money. Paid it off with what I stole, but their business ain’t exactly legal. I gave them up at trial. They’re a mite sore about it.”

“No honor among thieves?”

The words stung, and Rhett spat back, “I ain’t a thief!” The sharp look in Link’s eyes made him reconsider immediately. “Sir,” he amended. “Sorry.” 

Rhett instinctively leaned back, expecting to be scolded at the very least. Or struck. To his relief, he saw Link’s expression relax instead. He started speaking again before he could lose his nerve. “I stole the money, I admit that. Copped to it right off the bat when they caught me, you’ll see that in the court records. But I never stole before, and I never plan to do it again. I was stupid and desperate, but I’m not a thief.”

“Why’d you do it?” Link asked, calm and serious.

Rhett closed his eyes, taking a slow breath, in and out. He could feel the name,  _ her _ name, on his lips. It tasted so sweet, and so, so bitter.

“Please,” he whispered. “Don’t ask me that.”

“I need to know, Rhett,” the captain said. His voice was firm, but not unkind. “Why a man does a thing says a lot about who he is.”

Rhett swallowed hard. He could see the wisdom in that. But he hadn’t told this story. Not in court, not to the other folks swapping stories in prison or in the quarry bunkhouse late at night. It was still too fresh back in the courtroom with everyone staring daggers at him, and too personal to share with the rough men working beside him in the quarry. But he understood why the captain was asking, and so he took a deep breath and steeled himself to begin.

“Folks say the doctors on Ariel can cure anything,” he started. He glanced up at the captain once, just quick enough to catch a flash of blue eyes, before lowering his gaze to the polished surface of the desk. His fingers followed the wood grain, tracing it like a maze without an end. “That ain’t true. Some things just don’t have a cure. But there’s a lot a man will do for hope.”

“Go on.” The captain’s voice had lost all it’s fierceness, came out kind and a little hesitant. Rhett didn’t dare look up again to see the face that matched that voice.

“Her name was Jasmine. Smart as a whip, strong, and clever, and brave. We weren’t married, but that made no difference to us. I worked for a copper mine, keeping the radios and electronics working and the lights powered on. Did courier work sometimes, if they needed someone to run up to the train depot to fetch papers or payroll. Jaz, she had a small farm, growing potatoes and runner beans. Sold it all locally; she didn’t want it to end up in Alliance bellies if she could help it. God, I’m rambling.” Rhett chuckled sadly. “None of that matters. What matters is, she got pregnant. I didn't mind that. Married nor not, I was going to be a father, and she was going to be a mother. We started pickin’ out names, I was building a crib, Jaz was knitting blankets and such. It was a few months in when she got sick.”

Rhett stopped, swallowed, blinked back tears that were starting to form. “The doctors didn’t know what was wrong with her. They thought maybe cancer, maybe something else that was eating her alive. It was a gorram miracle that she didn’t lose the baby, thin as she got. They told us her only option was a specialist on Ariel. You have any idea what that costs? The transportation alone… and then the doctor, and the treatments… we’d have to sell the farm, and then some, and...” 

His throat grew tight at the memory, and for a moment he couldn’t breathe. When he blinked he could nearly see her there, long dark hair and big belly, her once-lovely face gone sallow and sickly. Clenching his fists so hard he felt his nails cut into his palms, he fought to take a full breath and finally succeeded, gasping loud in the quiet room. He heard, rather than saw, the captain stand up and come around the desk. A hand squeezed his shoulder, firm and steadying.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to keep going.” The captain’s voice was softer than he expected. 

Rhett shook his head, his breathing ragged but beginning to calm down. “No, it’s…you ought to hear this. So you know who I am.”

With a final light squeeze, the hand left his shoulder and he sat with his head down, trying to regain some kind of control. Somewhere behind him, he heard water running, and then a glass appeared on the desk in front of him. He murmured his thanks to the captain as he picked it up with shaking hands and took a long drink. The captain paused next to him, as if in thought, before stepping away.

“I borrowed the money,” Rhett said as Link returned to his place behind the desk. “Couldn’t get the banks to give me the time of day, so I found some folks who would. I knew they were bad men, dangerous, but I didn’t have a choice. Even with the loan, I couldn’t pay for both of us to go. I had to send her alone, on a merchant scow, so weak she could barely walk. It damn near killed me to do it.” He clenched his teeth for a moment, fighting the lump in his throat so he could finish the story. 

“Jaz made it to Ariel, but she was in bad shape, delirious. She died barely two days after she got there. The doctors saved the baby, a little girl. My daughter. Amelia.” Tears were flowing down his face, he knew, but his voice somehow stayed strong enough to keep going. “I never got to see her. They wouldn’t send her back to me. She’d need a nurse, and supplies, and I had no money to pay for it. I wasn’t married to her mother and couldn’t afford the genetic tests, so without proof that she’s even my child… they sent her to live with a foster family. I don’t know where. They shipped my Jasmine back in a coffin. Her mama and I buried her in the willow grove where we used to play when we were kids.”

Rhett cleared his throat and took another sip of water before continuing. “I still had the debt to pay back. She’d signed the farm over to me when she got sick, and I sold it, but it wasn’t enough, not nearly.  I made it six months before the demand came. Pay now, or they’d hunt down my baby girl. You know the story from there.”

  
Rhett sighed and allowed himself to slump in his chair, still crying a bit. After a few moments, he awkwardly tried to dab at the tears with the sleeve of his t-shirt.

“Here,” the captain said, passing him a folded white handkerchief. “It’s clean.” Rhett took it and gave the captain a small but grateful smile as he dried his eyes.

“Sorry for, uh, all that, sir,” Rhett said softly. 

“Don’t be,” Link replied. He seemed lost for words, fidgeting with the edges of the folder in front of him. “My gosh, Rhett. I never woulda asked if I’d had any idea.”

“You couldn’t know. Never told that story to anyone. Not the whole thing, anyway.”

The captain nodded. Rhett fiddled with the handkerchief in his hands. He wasn’t sure what else to say, or even whether he should say anything else. Fortunately for him, Link spoke first.

“There’s a couple other things I wanted to talk to you about.” The captain flipped through the folder as if looking for something. He stopped on a page near the end and turned it around so Rhett could read it. “The rules for compensation for work, for one.”

Rhett nodded and looked at the page. He’d read it before, not too closely.

“Says here that you’re entitled to be compensated for your work, at the discretion of the holder of your indenture. Also says that the holder can choose to retain all or part of this compensation to pay off your indenture and cost of living. You pay it off early, you go free and clear.”

“I see,” Rhett said calmly, though the implication made his heart race. 

“You’re part of my crew now,” Link said, looking Rhett square in the eye. “That means you're entitled to a share of the profits. You ever worked on a ship like this before, Rhett?”

“No, sir. I've never even been off-planet before.”

Link paused, but only for a moment. “Okay. Typically a rookie makes five percent, plus room and board for the first six months. Prove yourself, and it goes up to ten. I'll keep half to pay off the indenture, you get half to spend, or save, or whatever you like, I don’t care. Sound fair to you?”

Rhett's eyes grew huge and he whispered, “Five percent?”

“I know it sounds low, but if you do good work and we keep bringing in money, you'll probably be paid off in a year and a half.”

Rhett stared at the captain, open-mouthed for a moment.  “Sir, do you know what I was making in the quarry?”

Link shook his head, looking puzzled.

“Nothing. Zero. I made a few coins doing odd jobs for the overseers now and then, but that's all.” Rhett shook his head, knowing he was grinning like an idiot and not caring. “Five percent…”

“That might as well be robbery,” Link said with a disgusted expression. 

“It’s not uncommon, from what I hear. Folks like your baron, they see it as doing us a favor. Giving us useful work, getting us out of the prisons. Helping the Feds out.”

“Don’t make it right,” Link muttered. 

“No,” Rhett said with a sigh. “I guess it don’t.”

Link nodded, staring at the surface of the desk as if in thought. His focus turned to the collar sitting off to the side and he reached over to grab it. For a moment, he just held it in both hands, running a finger over the dulled metal points inside. Rhett tensed in spite of himself.

“This,” Link said, gesturing to the collar, “is the other thing we have to discuss.”

“Yes, sir,” Rhett said, sitting up straighter. The captain had been kind to him so far, he thought. Far more than necessary. So despite the threads of anxiety wrapping themselves around his gut at the sight of the control collar, he tried to stay calm.

“I don’t like it,” Link said. “I want you to know that. I don’t like what it does, I don’t like seeing it on you, and I’d destroy the rutting thing if I could.”

Rhett nodded carefully.

“But,” Link continued, “There are rules. Well, one rule specifically. The laws regarding indenture state that you have to wear it when you’re in public or any place where the chance of escape is ‘non-negligible’. We’re gonna be touching down in Peachtree in a few minutes, and I’d like to take you into town with us to pick up some things. So I’m going to have to put it back on you.”

“I understand,” Rhett said, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice. And he did, really. The captain had been generous leaving it off this long, giving him more than half an hour unfettered and safe from the threat of the punishing shocks. 

“It’s not… painful, is it?” Link asked abruptly. Rhett swore he could hear some hesitation or guilt in his voice. “Just to wear it, I mean?”

“No sir.”

“But not comfortable?”

“Not particularly, but I’m used to it.”

Link nodded. “Once we leave Peachtree, we’re gonna be flying for about six solid weeks. We’re headed to Sihnon with that load of marble. No place to stop between here and there. I figure, long as you don’t pose a threat, there’s no reason for you to wear it on my boat.”

Rhett stared at the captain, dumbfounded. “You’re...serious?”

“Like I said,” Link responded, frowning, “I don’t like the damn thing, and if it were up to me you wouldn’t have to wear it at all.”

“Sir, if I may ask,” Rhett licked his lips before continuing, “why are you being so generous to me? Trusting me like that? You barely know me.”

Link shrugged and gave him a crooked half-smile. “You coulda let me get my hand crushed this morning. You didn’t. You coulda let Chase hurt himself trying to pull that load, but you didn’t. You didn’t owe me anything either time. That tells me something about who you are. Makes me want to return the favor.”

Rhett considered the sentiment for a moment before responding. “Thank you, sir. Captain.”

“You’re welcome.” Link stood up, collar in hand. “Now, if you’re ready?”

Rhett nodded and sat still as Link moved behind him. The captain’s hands felt cool and a little shaky as he placed the collar around Rhett’s throat. Rhett lifted his hair up and out of the way so that Link could fasten the clasp at the nape of his neck. He heard the same three beeps as he had when it was taken off, then Link backed up a half-step and rested both hands on Rhett’s shoulders.

“Feel okay? Not too tight?”

“It’s fine, sir,” Rhett answered. He could feel the anxiety creeping in, the memory of pain, but he tried to disguise it, wanting to show the captain that he trusted him. 

To his surprise, Link did not immediately move away. Instead, as if he could feel Rhett’s fear and wanted to soothe it, he began rubbing soft circles between his shoulder blades with his thumbs. Rhett wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. He'd heard rumors of owners who...took advantage of their indentured servants, and though he didn't get that sense from the captain, the thought made him nervous. Still, he had to admit that it felt good. He stayed still for several moments, waiting to see where this was leading. But the captain simply continued at the same relaxed and soothing pace, gently kneading at the knots he found. Eventually, without really intending to, Rhett bowed his head and rounded his shoulders, relaxing into the touch. The hands paused and Rhett held his breath, hoping his reaction didn’t give away too much or frighten the man off. He was relieved when Link’s hands started moving again, this time a little more firmly. 

“This alright?” Link murmured, and Rhett just nodded. 

Link worked at Rhett’s shoulders, slow and steady, and neither man spoke for a minute or two. Rhett closed his eyes and let his mind drift, relishing the comfort and contact. It had been so long since anyone touched him with as much care as Link and Josh had, without intent to hurt or force him to do something, that he hadn’t even realized how badly he craved it. It certainly didn’t hurt that the captain was attractive, though he tried to ignore that thought, not wanting to read too much into it. Obviously, he thought, the man simply noticed how tense he was and wanted to help. Link’s hands grew warmer by the second, enough that Rhett could feel it through the fabric of the t-shirt he wore. He was nearly melting under Link’s touch. 

“Captain?” A woman’s voice from the comm panel startled both men from their reverie. Link instantly let go of Rhett and crossed the room to the comm.

“Go ahead, Stevie.”

“Ten minutes ‘til we’re on the ground. Thought you should know.”

“Thanks. I’ll be up shortly.”

“Sounds good, you know where to find me.”

The comm panel went quiet. Link looked at Rhett, his eyes wide with some emotion that Rhett could not identify.

“Come on,” Link finally said, breaking eye contact. He moved to the steps and pushed the hatch door open. “We’re nearly there.”

Rhett rose and followed the captain up and out of the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Updates Thursdays. Hopefully.


End file.
